


How Could We Be Wrong (RusAme)

by repairitrandy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, America/Russia-Centric (Hetalia), Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Russia (Hetalia), Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Human, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor America/Japan (Hetalia), Russia Needs a Hug (Hetalia)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repairitrandy/pseuds/repairitrandy
Summary: Human college AU where America hates Russia's guts over some shit his current boyfriend said about him. Their disdain for each other is heightened after they have to do a group project together. It ends well.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

Alfred’s disdain for Ivan drove far into his core; he hated the Russian man with enough passion that it was almost as if he hated him more than he loved his boyfriend- who was the sole reason for Alfred’s rancor toward Ivan. Kiku told Alfred that he and Ivan had a summer fling over the past break and that Ivan quickly became obsessive and cruel toward Kiku after the Japanese man decided that he’d rather not follow through with a legitimate relationship. Alfred did not take too warmly to the tales of Ivan’s explosive anger and manipulative nature; it was the stories Kiku told about Ivan’s drunken outbursts that upset Alfred the most. He couldn’t bear to picture his darling boy falling subject to slurred Russian rants and threats of physical abuse. 

Of course, Alfred had never actually  _ met _ Ivan. He had never heard his name from anybody other than Kiku, and he only knew what he looked like based on Kiku’s grisly description of him- big- in both height and weight. Alfred never cared to ask any further questions about his appearance, timid that recalling his looks would pull back memories of his torment. 

Because of this, there was no way that Alfred would’ve known that the platinum blond man he sat next to in a class filled to near-maximum capacity with students was Ivan Braginsky. He sat with impressive posture, a gray sweater hung loosely on his body and he smiled warmly as Alfred sat down beside him, pressing his lips firmly together in an awkward greeting smile.

The lecture hall was decently sized, with a capacity of about 50. The curved tables were filled up in their entirety with students who shuffled through their backpacks and flipped through notebooks as they waited for the professor to begin. He stood before the class, meek and small with thick-framed glasses, a massive hunch and a combover of thin dark hair. He hobbled from his desk to the podium and the idle chatter subsided after he cleared his throat.

“Welcome to Intro to Art and History,” he said, his voice shockingly loud despite his small stature, “I am Dr. Dayhoff.” 

The class muttered a greeting in response.

“Personally,” he announced, standing up as straight as his old body allowed, “I believe in proper introductions. You all will be working together in close collaboration throughout this course and I’d like for you all to know at least one person off the bat!” He hunched again, “Please, if you will, turn to the person whom you are closest to and greet them. I want you both to touch on why you are here- take that as you will- and to learn a bit about them. This person could be your new best friend.” 

Ivan took a hasty glance at his desk partner. He was smaller in stature, with thin glasses resting on the tip of his nose and his dirty blond hair unkempt. He wore a bomber jacket over an ill-fitting t-shirt. Though he had been living in America for almost half a decade, the carelessness associated with American ways of dressing still baffled Ivan. He shifted his body to face the other man and was greeted with an outstretched hand.

“‘Sup, I’m Alfred, but you can call me whatever you want,” his voice was stagnant, and not quite disinterested but almost annoyed. 

“I am Ivan,” the Russian man smiled as he shook Alfred’s hand once before the other man yanked his hand from Ivan’s grip. His brows furrowed as Alfred’s expression contorted into a frown. 

“ _ Ivan _ ?” He pressed. 

“Yes, Ivan Braginsky,” he said slowly, assuming that it was his accent that caused the misunderstanding; he still spoke with a heavy Russian dialect and was no stranger to having to repeat himself. 

Without hesitation, Alfred snatched his messenger bag into his hands and looked over both shoulders. He grunted, leaning back into the chair again after discovering that a student had not disappeared in the fifteen minutes since he’d arrived. 

“What is the matter? You are already bored by me?” Ivan chuckled, trying to dissipate the tension that hung in the air. 

Alfred shot him an icy glare, pulling out his phone with a grumble under his breath. Ivan shifted in his seat, looking around the room to see if any other students had reacted this harshly to the name of their deskmate. Sure enough, they all chatted and laughed together with tense shoulders and bobbing legs. 

“What do you do in your free time?” Ivan asked cautiously, turning his body to face the front of the room. 

Alfred did not respond. He ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh before finally resting his forehead on his palms. Ivan shifted again, rubbing his fingertips against his knuckles as he shifted through reasons for Alfred to be upset about him based on his name alone. Nobody hated him- at least he didn’t  _ think _ anybody hated him- but that statement was evidently false in the way Alfred reacted to him. He had a falling out with Honda Kiku over the summer, but he didn’t think their past relationship problems would impact others’ opinions of him. It’d be bold to ask if that was the reason for Alfred’s immediate disgust toward him, but he had nothing to lose as a result of asking.

“You know Honda Kiku?” Ivan choked out. 

“Yes, I do. He’s my boyfriend,” Alfred said sharply as he turned to face Ivan, “and fuck you for what you did to him. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”   
Ivan furrowed his brows, “What did I do to him?” 

Alfred scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes with theatrical dramatism, “You dense asshole.”

Ivan sighed as he rested his chin on his hands, taking glances at Alfred from the corner of his eye. He didn’t recall all that much going down between himself and Kiku. Sure, they fought and bickered, but it was never much more than adoration gone sour after a conflict of interests. Ivan loved Kiku. They frequently hooked up and they spent the majority of the summer together, but Kiku saw it as nothing more than a fling, whereas Ivan properly fell for Kiku. Sure, after the discovery that Ivan’s feelings weren’t reciprocated he was upset and bitter toward the other man, but he didn’t consider what he did to yield hatred from a third party. 

The remaining forty-five minutes of class dragged on with the tense aura that surrounded the two. Ivan spent the time racking his brain for every wrongdoing on his behalf, whereas Alfred bobbed his leg and huffed with contempt boiling in his gut. He was disgusted to be seated so close to someone who had caused his boyfriend so much pain and emotional turmoil. Every muscle in his body ached to punch Ivan square in his big, stupid nose or to worldessly get up and leave the class, demanding a new one in place. This course, however, had been one that Alfred looked forward to since he was in high school and there was no way that he was giving it up because of some asshole like Ivan. 

“Okay,” Dr. Dayhoff announced. The class fell silent and turned their attention toward him, “I hope you all had rich, fulfilling conversations with your desk partners-”

Alfred and Ivan glanced at each other, shifting uncomfortably in anticipation for what Dayhoff would say.

“-as I will be requesting that you two work on an assignment together! I want you each to create something- a presentation, essay, whatever you want- on your partner’s hobby or interest and how that could affect them as a person. The outline for the assignment is on my website, please take a look when you get the chance.” The professor beamed, gathering his belongings, “You are all dismissed! Have a great day.” 

Alfred snatched his bag with a grunt,hastily turning to face Ivan. He looked him up and down, exhaling sharply out of his nose before storming out of the room. Ivan scoffed at his immaturity, collecting his bearings and making his way down the steps and out of the classroom. He was not upset with Alfred for disliking him, but he saw it as an inconvenience. He’d like to be able to attend that class without the groggy weight of being hated looming over his head each time he stepped into the lecture hall. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he walked back to his dorm, suddenly realizing his hunger after the anxiety subsided. Fortunately for Ivan, his dorm was not far from the building where the class was held and he could get back to his room in about five minutes if he walked at a brisk pace and didn’t slow down to appreciate the wilting August flowers, as he did the first semester as a freshman.

Ivan strode down the empty corridor leading to his dorm room, still trying to shake the confusion that his last class left him with. With a heavy sigh, he unlocked his door and pushed it open, nearly colliding with his roommate.

“Ivan!” Yao panted, gazing up at the taller man. 

“Why the rush?” Ivan asked as he set his bag down on his desk, leaning down to untie his shoes. 

“I have a class in five minutes! I’m about to be late,” his roommate’s voice wavered as he slid out the door, waving a hasty goodbye before slamming the door, presumably by accident. 

Ivan rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand and sat at the foot of his bed, letting out a long-winded sigh as he leaned back so his head rested against the concrete wall, which was painted with a hydrated-piss-yellow paint that was abhorred by the students and often covered with posters and photos and tapestries. Ivan opted to adorn his walls with posters from his favorite films and a large Russian flag hung loosely in the open space that couldn’t be covered by cheap 18”x 24” posters. Yao, however, left his walls bare except for a canvas with painting that he had done himself hung haphazardly with Command strips. 

He stared blankly at his ceiling, squinting against the fluorescent overhead lights. The intensity of the light reminded him of the bright midday sun in July, when he and Kiku would sit together at Benedict Park after he spent the night at Ivan’s. Kiku would always rest his head on Ivan’s belly, sometimes dozing off and other times pointing out shapes in clouds. It was times like that where Ivan felt the most at home, as everything seemed so simple and he didn’t have to worry himself sick about his family or the pressing matter of his future. He could confidently say that he loved Kiku. It pained him, still, to know that his former sexual partner did not feel the same and that he was nothing more than somebody to keep him company on hazy summer afternoons when he had nothing better to do with his time.

To say Ivan missed Kiku would be an understatement; he still found himself shedding tears over the boy he lost, knowing there was nothing he could’ve done to make him stay. The pair didn’t talk much outside of their sexual encounters and, despite being more than comfortable with each other’s bodies, could not fully engage each other's minds. Their afternoons at Benedict Park offered minimal conversation aside from small talk or discussions about when they could “do this” again. 

In retrospect, Ivan was foolish and naive to not understand that what they had was not more than a fling. As time passed since they ‘split’, he realized that he did not love Kiku for who he was as a person, because he never had the time to truly meet him, but instead he loved the attention that he got from him. Nobody had paid that much attention to Ivan. His parents, while physically present, spent their time at bars and over friends’ houses, leaving his older sister, Irina, to care for himself and their younger sister, Natalia. He immediately attached himself to the one person who showed him, in the ways of sexual favors, that he cared. Ivan knew that it was ignorant to immediately invest so much into a person who he couldn’t carry a legitimate conversation with, but that didn’t stop him from lamenting over the loss of the man he loved. It hurt even more now to know that he moved on so quickly from Ivan. 

Without thought, Ivan reached for his phone, mindlessly scrolling to Kiku’s contact. He needed to talk to him again; to make amends. Just for the sake of being partnered up with his new boyfriend in class...

Before typing, he paused.

Alfred did not seem like the type of person to take too kindly to someone like him texting his boyfriend and Ivan did  _ not _ need more tension between himself and his deskmate. 

He tossed his phone aside, covering his face with his hands and groaning into his palms. He didn’t want to hate Alfred, nor did he want Alfred to hate him, but the more he contemplated what must’ve been going on between him and Kiku, the more contempt toward Alfred brewed inside of him. 

With one more heavy exhale, Ivan laid on his side, reaching for the half-eaten bag of chips on his bedside table. He had no energy left in him to make himself food or walk down to the dining hall. He closed his eyes, imagining himself in the middle of July within Kiku once again, curled comfortably around the smaller man with the skin of his bare chest pressed against the bare skin of Kiku’s back, their breaths slow with drowsiness and comfort.

  
  


-

  
  


“Ivan,” Yao said from his bed, where he sat with a plethora of notebooks and stationery surrounding him, “do you not have the art history class today?”   
“I am not going,” Ivan said defiantly. 

“Why?” 

“I do not want to see Alfred.” 

“Maybe he won’t be so upset today,” Yao suggested with a shrug.

Ivan scoffed, “He hates me! I won’t go.” 

Yao stood up, pulling Ivan’s arms until his head and shoulders hung limply off the side of the bed. “Come on Ivan,” he said, “you can’t just avoid him. You wanted to take that class.” 

“Not anymore.” 

“Ivan,” Yao groaned, “get up! Maybe today will be better than the other day.” 

Ivan pulled his upper body back onto the bed and sat up, pushing his hair back as he sighed. He did want to attend the class for himself but he did not want to have to put up with Alfred’s attitude. 

Without thought, Ivan heaved himself out of bed, clothed himself, and quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair into place. He bid Yao goodbye and headed out the door, his eyes fixated on his boot-clad feet as he walked quickly to his dreaded class, his palms growing clammier and his heart beating faster with every hasty step. He swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat, forcing thoughts of Kiku and his new hateful lover out of his mind. He didn’t want to interact with Alfred. In fact, he hated Alfred. He hated Alfred for replacing him, he hated Alfred for being bitter without knowing his side, he hated Alfred for sitting next to him, he hated Alfred for being petty, and he hated Alfred for existing. 

He opened the door to the lecture hall and, without looking up, seated himself next to Alfred, refusing to allow his eyes to drift in his general direction. He took out his notebook, scribbling in the margins of the paper in order to avoid any interaction with Alfred. 

“Welcome back!” Dr. Dayhoff announced from the front of the class, “I hope you’ve all reviewed the project requirement. Today, I will be quickly going over your syllabus and then leaving the rest of the class open to you all to continue conversing,” he smiled, “I encourage you all to share phone numbers and maybe even see each other outside of class to work on this.”   
Ivan scoffed, resting his cheek on his palm. As Dayhoff began his ramble about the syllabus, he took the opportunity to look at Alfred once again while he was distracted; he looked almost like a different person when he wasn’t angry. His face appeared much softer and less intimidating. His nose sloped gently to his lips, which were thin, but not thin to the point where they weren’t visible. His eyes were a shockingly bright blue, reminiscent of the midsummer sky. Alfred was attractive, as much as it pained Ivan to admit it. Surely he was more attractive than Ivan was, and maybe that was the reason for Kiku choosing him instead. They’d look good together, Ivan thought. He could picture them holding hands on campus and laughing together and…

He peeled his eyes away from his desk partner. He couldn’t think about the new relationship. 

It was in bad taste for Alfred to even consider uttering a word to Ivan. He was awful; he treated Kiku poorly and Alfred would not be the asshole that befriends someone from his boyfriend’s past… but he felt Ivan’s eyes on him. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, not wanting to risk the chance of them making eye contact, and he saw the softness in his gaze, the way his brows tilted upward and the frown that shaped his lips. In that fleeting moment, he almost doubted that this man was capable of what Kiku said he did. He couldn’t imagine the person beside him yelling and screaming and breaking glass and cursing in his native tongue…

Alfred shook his head free of the empathetic thoughts toward Ivan. There was no reason for Kiku to lie to him about the treatment that he received from the Russian man- Alfred didn’t even know who he was. 

But maybe that was where he was wrong. Alfred had no clue who Ivan was, and however intimidating he seemed upfront, he did not seem to have any malicious intent. 

_ Enough. _

__ Alfred cursed himself for empathizing with the bastard who hurt his boyfriend just because of the sad look in his eyes. He was awful to doubt the integrity of what Kiku told him. 

Dayhoff concluded the syllabus and returned to his desk with a swift wave of his hands as he hobbled away from the podium. Ivan turned his head, forcing a smile and a small wave at Alfred, who dipped his head hastily in return. 

“I understand why you do not want to speak with me,” Ivan said, “but I would like to get this project done.” 

“Yeah,” Alfred shrugged, “doesn’t matter to me. Write my report on football or something.” 

Ivan shifted, “You can write mine on movies…” he said slowly. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yes,” Ivan raised his brows, “just not the porn kind,” he figured the joke might lighten the mood.

Alfred laughed, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Silence fell between them. 

“Maybe you should take my number?” Ivan suggested, “In case you need to ask questions.” 

“Maybe,” Alfred said, “up to you, man.” 

“I think you should.” 

Alfred took out his phone and slid it toward Ivan, “Just make your contact Joe or something, I don’t need Kiku knowing that I’m talking to you.” 

Ivan did as Alfred suggested, pausing to look at his deskmate, “How is he?” He choked on the lump in his throat.

“Kiku?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s it to you? Don’t worry about him,” Alfred snapped, “he doesn’t want anything to do with you. And frankly, neither do I.” 

“Sorry,” Ivan shuddered, bending over so he sat shorter than Alfred. He wanted to know that Kiku was doing okay, even if it meant that he was better off without him. 

The pair did not speak for the rest of class, though Ivan desperately wanted to really push for any information about Kiku, he knew it was better that he left it alone. He didn’t need any further friction between himself and Alfred, especially when they had maybe started to begin to get along. 

As Ivan doodled shapes and flowers in the back pages of his notebook, he imagined Alfred and Kiku together. He stole glances at Alfred and pictured their faces together, lying beneath the sun just like he and Kiku used to, except maybe they talked about all of the things that Ivan wished that he could’ve talked with Kiku about, like what he pictured his future to be like, and what he wanted to name his pets, and how he’d make a living. 

Ivan was envious of Alfred; he had what Ivan wanted so desperately. And he really, truly, hated him to his core because of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI ok so basically this is just a buffer chapter... it's not like vital to the plot but so if you've already read the chapter after this one it's no big deal to just. not read this one

“What’re you gonna write?” Alfred asked, reaching over to the papers on the opposite end of the table.

“What you told me,” Ivan said plainly, shoving his papers toward Alfred.

Alfred snatched up the paper, his eyes darting over the words. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then let out a long sigh. “How about we each just write our own?” 

“Why? Is there something wrong with what I said?”   
“No- I- well,” Alfred stammered, handing the papers back to Ivan, “it’d just be easier. Plus, I wouldn’t have to actually speak to you.” 

Ivan shifted in his seat, glancing around at the other tables in the library’s study hall. Only one other group was situated in the corner murmuring amongst themselves, hopefully out of earshot. Ivan shrugged, “I guess that would be easier.”

“Exactly. I’m goin’ home. Be done with your thing by tomorrow and I’ll put my name on it, and vice-versa,” Alfred said as he collected his belongings.

“If we are supposed to sit together-” Ivan held his palms up in an attempt to get Alfred to stay, “-shouldn’t we just try to be civil?”   
Alfred scoffed, “Civil? With you? That’s a joke.”

Ivan sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrests. He raised his eyebrows when his eyes caught Alfred’s and the shorter man wordlessly shrugged before turning on his heels and striding away. Ivan leaned his head against his hand, watching as Alfred left. He couldn’t possibly be _ this  _ immature. It was just a project for school; it’s not like he was being forced to live with him. 

With a roll of his eyes, Ivan quickly jotted down his essay for the assignment. He figured there was no use in going back to his dorm to do work when he was already in the library, especially considering that Yao was almost definitely engrossed in a painting that he had been procrastinating and any disturbance would set him off into a fit of rage. Plus, Ivan enjoyed getting his work done while listening in on others’ conversations; it was the rawest, most organic form of entertainment and Ivan found it absolutely enthralling. It was a brief escape from whatever was going on in his world and a reminder that he was not alone. 

His work didn’t take him long as he didn’t put much effort into it; why would he? Alfred hated him and he disliked him just as much; sure, it was a group project, but Ivan couldn’t care less about the grade. He just wanted it to be over. He could comfortably go his whole life without seeing Alfred again. It was a shame that someone as nice-looking as him had to be such an asshole. If Ivan wasn’t already envious of him on account of his looks, he definitely was for his relationship with Kiku.

As Ivan packed up his things, he debated contacting Kiku again just to ask how things were. Alfred made it more than obvious that Kiku hated him, but perhaps a text checking in and apologizing for whatever he had done wrong would make things okay. Maybe Kiku would even talk to him again and they could be friends…

But that was just wishful thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh ok imma keep it real i didn't really revise this chapter or anything so if it doesn't make sense that's on me. <3

Two weeks after classes had begun marked the start of the first big party weekend of the semester. The students were finally settled and frat houses offered their dingy places as makeshift clubs with cheap disco lights and strings of Christmas lights spanning the ceilings to set the mood. The frat boys splurged on speakers that they placed haphazardly in the corners of their living rooms where they set up beer pong tables and pushed couches aside to make room for their patrons. From the outside, the windows of the houses lit up with the kaleidoscope of colors and drunken students sat on the lawn to escape the commotion inside. Noise complaints were standard, but that never stopped the house parties from occurring.

Ivan was not by any means extroverted, but he did enjoy attending the parties. He and Yao went together and often split up at arrival. Ivan was a talkative drunk; he often found himself becoming temporary best friends with people he’d never see again. On top of his chattiness, he was  _ loud _ . The volume of his voice accessorized with his heavy accent typically had one of two responses; he was avoided at all costs for the brazen sonority of his voice or he drew in a crowd to listen to him ramble about his upbringing in Russia. Usually, though, it was the former- although he consistently seized the attention of at least one other partygoer. 

He took any opportunity to dress himself up, and these house parties were no exception. He and Yao both formed a tradition freshman year where they’d put on their best clothes- as if they were dining at the Ritz- just to attend house parties. Ivan hated the music they played and he was not a fan of crowds, so taking it as an opportunity to feel like himself in his favorite sweater-blazer combo all while getting drunk off other people’s alcohol was entirely worth tolerating shitty music and tightly-packed congregations. 

The pair wordlessly finished off their looks and with mutual nods headed out the door and down the hall, a thick aura of confidence hanging in the air around them. Ivan held himself upright, making his shoulders somehow appear broader than they already were. The pair came to a halt, almost in unison, at the corner outside of their dorm building. Ivan and Yao stood with matching poise and tenacity. Though nearly half a foot shorter than Ivan, Yao’s icy stare made him almost as outwardly intimidating as the larger man. He was the snappier of the two, with much less patience than Ivan and his gaze mirrored his attitude. The men stood in the cool early-September wind with their hands resting in the pockets of their coats, evidently trying to express their self-confidence. 

Without saying a word to each other, the roommates climbed into their Uber and sat silently for the brief duration of the ride. Neither of them needed to speak and opening their mouths aside from thanking the driver might infringe upon the swelling feeling in their chests that was more intoxicating than any of the cheap alcohol they’d consume.

Yao and Ivan stepped out of the sedan, chirping thank-yous before strutting into the doors of the booming house, dipping their heads as a farewell before parting ways. Purple and red and blue lights danced around the rooms, illuminating the peoples’ otherwise darkened faces. Attendees lined the walls, some groups talking in small circles with red cups and beer bottles in their hands, others whooping and cheering as they tossed ping pong balls into solo cups hazardously filled to their brims with beer. A couple sat on the couch attached by the lips with a young man seated uncomfortably next to them on his phone. The bass of the rap music playing from the almost comically large speakers resonated in Ivan’s chest as he made his way carefully through the crowd to a table that held shot glasses. Without hesitation, Ivan took a pair of glasses and threw back his head as he hastily swigged the alcohol. He was relatively unaffected by the bite of high alcohol content and took a sharp inhale to urge the bitter burn away. He waved at a few of his classmates that waved at him first as he slid by numbers of dancing girls and chatting boys, trying to find a beer or if he was lucky, an unattended bottle of vodka. 

He found himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter to survey the area. A small cooler was placed on the dinner table with some wine coolers poking out through the ice and a brown bag laid on its side beside it. Nobody stood immediately around the table and Ivan figured it’d be safe to poke his nose into the bag and see if he was fortunate enough to find something with an alcohol content greater than ten percent. 

To his delight, about a dozen small shot bottles sat at the bottom of the bag. With a quick glance over either shoulder, Ivan jammed the alcohol into his pockets and walked away from the scene, looking back once more to ensure that nobody caught him hogging all of the strongest drinks. Sure enough, the folks who stood in the kitchen were preoccupied with their tongues down somebody else’s throat or deeply engrossed in the rolling of a blunt. Ivan was never much of a smoker; he hated how it made his lungs burn and he had a strong preference for the effects of liquor. 

Ivan slipped a bottle out of his pocket and, without looking, unscrewed the cap and downed the whole shot in one swig. He situated himself in a relatively empty corner near the back door and watched the crowd as he waited for the alcohol to make its way into his bloodstream, continuing to down more bottle shots with ignorant hopes that it would speed up the time that it took for the drinks to affect him.

  
  


Sure enough, intoxication hit him like a freight train. His head spun with every step he took while holding on to strangers to keep his balance on his endeavor to the sofa. As he sat down, his focus zeroed in on the crowd of people dancing in front of him. Specifically, one dirty blond man grinding against a smaller Asian man…  _ Kiku _ … 

Ivan’s heart sank at the sight of his former partner. He hadn’t seen him since the day they ‘split’ back in July. He looked happier, less bogged down by worry… but maybe that was just the alcohol in his system. A smile stretched across both of his cheeks as he laughed and danced with Alfred. 

Ivan was right- they did look good together.

It was jarring, though, that for however much Ivan missed Kiku, Alfred was the one who drew his attention. His dirty blond locks slicked down on his sweaty forehead while the hair atop his head that was maneuvered by a cowlick bounced with every excitable turn and hop. His smile was possibly broader than Kiku’s; his eyes small and squinty as he sang along to the music and danced alongside his lover. 

His beaming grin quickly turned sour when he took notice of Ivan’s enthralled gaze. Before the Russian man could process what was going on, he was being pulled up by his collar with Alfred’s face just inches from him, his hot, alcohol-tainted breath against Ivan’s skin. 

“You keep your eyes off my Kiku, you hear me?” He shouted through slurred words.

“I am sorry,” Ivan grabbed Alfred’s wrists to pull the shorter man off of him. 

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” He hollered, slapping Ivan’s hands away and shoving him back, “Touch me again! I fucking  _ dare _ you!”

“I- I do not mean to start trouble-”

“Bullshit!” Alfred wound a fist up but was whisked away by another student with fluffy blond hair. 

“Let me go, Mathias!” Alfred howled, “He’s gotta learn somehow!”   
“He doesn't have to learn,” Mathias said, his tone even, “he wasn’t hurting anybody.”

Alfred wriggled out of Mathias’s grip, flashing a final hostile glare in Ivan’s direction before turning away and linking arms with Kiku, whose face was painted with concern.

“I want you out,” Mathias said to Ivan, gesturing toward the door, “Alfred has told me about you.” 

Ivan stood up, stumbling over, “Let me get something from the other room. Then I will leave.” 

Mathias scoffed, turning to a shorter blond man that appeared next to him. He then turned away from Ivan, intertwining his fingers with the man who stood near him. 

Ivan waited for the blond pair to make their way out of the living room before he walked over to Alfred, who now stood alone without Kiku. Ivan took this as an opportunity to pull the man around the corner and down the hall where there was nobody- except for a girl passed out on the floor with a solo cup spilled next to her.

“I do not know why you have such hate for me,” Ivan said as he held onto Alfred’s wrists, trying his best to keep his voice down, “but I am thinking that it’s pointless.”

“As if I give a fuck what you think,” Alfred scoffed. He didn’t wriggle free from Ivan’s grasp. 

“You are not fighting against me.”

“Yeah. Say what you have to say.”

Ivan stood upright, bewildered by the hostile placidity of the shorter man. His eyes darted over Alfred’s face, taking the fleeting moments that they could be so close to indulge in his gentle features.

It was without thought that he leaned forward and kissed Alfred…

And to his surprise, Alfred kissed back. 

Ivan pulled away first and without thought dragged Alfred into the room with the ajar door beside them. Alfred slammed the door once they got inside, promptly locking it. Ivan’s gut churned as the shorter boy stepped toward him, striking an open palm across his cheeks. 

“Some nerve you have! You know I’m here with Kiku!” Ivan shuffled backward, stumbling over his drunken legs. He staggered until he reached the mattress, which he instinctively sat himself down on, running his hands through his hair in a desperate attempt to compose himself. 

Alfred took Ivan’s head roughly in his hands, “I hate you, I really do.”   
Ivan blinked in response, unable to fully process what the man before him just said. Without thought, he pulled Alfred forward so he straddled him on top of the mattress and kissed him once again. He craved the attention and the passion that he once shared with Kiku, and Alfred was there and they were alone. He let his mind free itself of the anxiety that was initially instilled by Alfred’s harsh oncoming once the dirty blond’s lips trailed down to his neck while his hands worked nimbly at undoing his belt buckle. 

Neither man had time to consider what was going on before Alfred was inside of Ivan, pounding against him with passion driven by disdain; he wanted nothing but to hurt Ivan and to drive him into submission. 

As per drunken standard, Ivan found it difficult to keep quiet- even when Alfred’s palm was pressing down on his mouth. He groaned and grasped at Alfred’s back, moving his hips against Alfred’s thrusts while Alfred buried his head into the crook of Ivan’s neck. He came not long after Ivan did, finishing on his own hands, which he absentmindedly wiped on the comforter of the bed they fucked on. 

Alfred flopped down on top of Ivan, brushing his fingers over his rosy cheeks. His head rested comfortably on Ivan’s bare chest, his eyes fluttering shut with every breath. Ivan shifted underneath Alfred, not bothering to take the time to register _ what the fuck _ was going on before he fell asleep with his arms around Alfred. 

  
  


-

  
  


The light that filtered in through the dirty window was piercing. Ivan woke up to his head throbbing and-

His naked body curled around Alfred’s?

When did this happen?

...Fuck. 

Ivan was dead. Alfred hated his guts; once he realized that they fucked, he’d throw a fit. Ivan didn’t even know where he was. He was lying naked next to the man who hated him more than anyone in a stranger’s bed with a throbbing head and a churning gut. He slowly sat up, trying his best to leave the man beside him undisturbed. 

With unmatched caution, Ivan inched off the bed and slipped his boxers back on. Alfred stirred slightly as Ivan hastily pulled his trousers on, jumping into the legs with his eyes not deviating from Alfred’s sleeping figure. 

Ivan crouched down to pick up his sweater, fumbling to turn it right-side in. His fingers worked clumsily with the fabric as his hands trembled. Once he finally pulled the sweater over his head, he opened his achy eyes to see Alfred seated upright on the bed, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. The drowsiness escaped his look once he noticed who was standing at the foot of the bed. 

“ _ Ivan _ ?” 

“Yes, it is me. I will be going now!” Ivan announced as he snatched up his coat and started toward the door. 

“Wait-” Alfred said. Ivan paused.

“Wait. Did we…?” 

“Probably. I must be leaving now!” Ivan reached for the door handle.

“Fuck! Don’t go!” Alfred scrambled to pull his boxers back on, holding an outreached palm in Ivan’s direction. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

The Russian man turned away from the door, rubbing his palms together as he watched Alfred check his phone, worry contorting his face. “Oh, I’m dead.”   
I could say the same, Ivan thought. 

Alfred brought his phone to his ear, holding his thumbnail between his teeth in silence, his leg bobbing at a mile a minute. 

“Hello? Kiku? Hi- I-” Alfred fell silent. Ivan couldn’t make out any words but Kiku sounded angry. “I know, I didn’t mean to, baby- I was drunk- I- I would n-” a tear fell from Alfred’s cheek as Kiku continued yelling, “No! You can’t! It was a mistake- Kiku- Ki- Kiku!” 

Alfred tossed his phone down, holding his hands over his mouth and nose.

“Alfred?” Ivan said softly, hesitantly making his way to the bed. 

“Fuck you!” The shorter man shouted through tears, “You’ve got what you wanted! He’s all yours now! Selfish fucking…” his rant dissipated into grumbles.

“I do not want him,” Ivan said, placing an anxious hand on Alfred’s shoulder, “you two are broken up?” 

“Yep! Nice job, Sherlock! You really outdid yourself this time!” 

“He knows?”

“He said he heard.” 

“Oh,” Ivan knew he was to blame, “sorry.” 

Alfred buried his face in his head, wagging his head as he cried, “He’s never coming back! I really fucked up.” 

“Maybe he will change his mind.” 

“You know Kiku, he isn’t like that.” 

Ivan sat next to Alfred, his hand still stagnantly resting on his shoulder. The shorter man looked so fragile when he cried; it was almost impossible to imagine him angry while he was in this state. Ivan’s heart sunk upon realizing that  _ he _ was the reason for Alfred’s anguish. 

With a shaky sob, Alfred wrapped his arms around Ivan’s torso and pressed his face into Ivan’s shoulder, taking in a shuddery breath. Ivan pulled Alfred onto his lap, absentmindedly rubbing the small of his back as he cried.

It was when Alfred grasped at Ivan’s neck to pull himself closer to the taller man that Ivan realized that there was no way he could hate Alfred. Even if he wanted to. He looked so broken-- so  _ vulnerable _ in his arms. Alfred was not as bold and intimidating as he thought himself to be because here he was blubbering in the arms of the man who he swore to hate. And perhaps he still hated him, maybe even more than he did before this moment, but that didn’t change the fact that he was crying and naked in Ivan’s arms, tugging at his sweater to close any space between them in order to indulge in the comfort of his embrace. Ivan could not possibly find it in himself to feel anything but adoration for Alfred. 


	4. Chapter 4

Truth be told, Kiku wasn’t perfect, and Alfred saw it firsthand. He had a short temper and often lost his patience with Alfred. Maybe it was because their personalities just weren’t compatible to begin with. Gilbert often told him it was because their star signs didn’t align, but Alfred was never one to believe in that shit; it didn’t make sense. 

Kiku was quieter. He didn’t speak more than he had to and he was pensive and often melancholy, as he was more caught up in his own head than he was focused on the present. Alfred found it endearing, but Kiku could not say the same about Alfred’s brash extroversion and bold demeanor. It stressed Kiku out and often annoyed him. He found himself grumbling under his breath about Alfred’s antics. He had no patience for his practical jokes or his long-winded (often cocky) rants. He tried to have some patience for his extroverted partner but when Alfred started chatting with strangers on the streets based on the color of their football jersey, Kiku had to take it upon himself to constitute a lie as to why they had to go. Alfred never necessarily got mad when Kiku would literally drag him away from conversations he was enjoying, but to say he wasn’t upset would be a lie. 

They were both self centered. That made for brutal arguments. In their two months together, they’d already had almost a handful of arguments that ended in slamming the doors to each others’ dorm rooms, effectively pissing off the entire hall, and then ignoring each other for the next day until somebody (usually Kiku) apologized with kisses and sexual favors.

Despite how short-tempered he was, Kiku never intentionally harmed Alfred in any way; emotionally or physically. He never said anything that he knew would hurt Alfred’s feelings and he would never lay a finger on him, but sometimes Alfred found himself lamenting on how quickly their discussions escalated into fights and how Kiku only gave his full attention to Alfred while they fucked. 

Alfred loved Kiku though; there was no denying that. He poured his whole soul into their relationship, so to be dumped so abruptly after a night that Alfred didn’t even remember was earth-shattering. He had experienced heartbreak that was far more intense than this, but that didn’t stop Alfred from putting his life on pause to sulk. 

-

Alfred spent the bulk of his time outside of class in his dorm laying idly in his bed. It wasn’t the breakup itself that hurt him, but the guilt that he carried because of  _ why _ the breakup happened. Alfred swore to himself that he would never stoop so low as to cheat, but there he was; apparently balls deep in his sworn enemy.

Alfred wasn’t sexually attracted to Ivan while he was sober. Before the party Alfred saw him in class and he’d look him in the eyes while they exchanged stiff words, but never once had he looked at the Russian man and wanted to see him beneath him… but now that it happened, he wouldn’t object to seeing it again.

He still wasn’t into Ivan- he just found great pleasure in seeing the larger man submit, especially knowing what he was capable of doing to hurt another person. Ivan’s persona was very unlike Kiku’s description of him. The way the Japanese man put it, Ivan was horrifying and cruel. He was willing and able to bring harm to everything he touched and would not think twice before acting. Apparently it was even worse when he was drunk. 

That’s not the Ivan that Alfred was familiar with. Alfred’s Ivan brought him homemade lunch on the days that Alfred couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, and Alfred’s Ivan sat with him while he cried and would show him his favorite songs to distract him; Alfred’s Ivan was the one of the sweetest men he’d ever met. He was abrasive and often hard to read but also sensitive and in Ivan’s case, the good outweighed the bad. 

Despite the kind gestures and gentle murmurs of reassurance, Alfred could not possibly get the picture of Ivan that he had branded into his mind to leave; the image of Ivan angry, impulsive, loud, and abusive. He painted Ivan out to be a horrible monster that had no regard for anybody but himself.

Admittedly, Ivan’s biggest flaw was that he often didn’t think before he spoke and would say insulting things about other people seemingly without realizing. Alfred couldn’t piece together whether he truly meant some of these things or if it was just a miscommunication on account of English being his second language. 

Alfred ignored it. Ivan was never cruel to him, whether he meant it or not; he was usually the exact opposite of cruel.

A week or two after Ivan initially started texting Alfred and coming to his dorm to bring him food and offer moral support, the compliments picked up. He’d dedicate multiple sentences in his rambles about how Alfred shouldn’t feel  _ too bad _ about the situation to highlighting his admiration for the other man. They flattered Alfred, but he could never reciprocate the compliments; the ugly version of Ivan was still ever-present in his mind. 

It could’ve all been a facade to get something out of Alfred though- maybe to keep up his own reputation. But besides what Kiku had told them about Ivan, neither Alfred, Mathias, nor Gilbert had ever heard the name  _ Ivan Braginsky _ before. So to salvage a reputation that seemingly only really existed in the eyes of four people would be a wasted effort. There was no way that Ivan was genuinely interested in Alfred as a person. He knew Alfred’s disdain for him, and unless he was absolutely enthralled with Alfred, to weasel his way onto his good side would be stupid. 

He spoke so softly to Alfred though, and with such a gentle nature that it almost made Alfred forget that he was supposed to hate him altogether. 

It was hard to hate a man that brought you food that he made himself. 

Alfred didn’t hate spending time around Ivan either. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist but what he did say, he meant; and you could tell. He had no filter and everything he said was an organic thought. 

That became evident the day that Ivan and Alfred were sat on the tired loveseat while a movie played and Ivan turned to Alfred and said, without hesitation, “You are very pretty. Especially in the lighting of the screen.”   
Alfred had no response. He just smiled and shoved his shoulder. Alfred would’ve considered it just a compliment until Ivan leaned in to kiss him. 

His heart skipped a beat and -for a moment- he considered kissing him back. But he couldn’t. Even when Ivan’s fingers were interlaced with his and they sat with their shoulders pressed together and Alfred’s head on his shoulder, he couldn’t. He pulled his head away and let out a heavy sigh.

Alfred took the time after the run-in to study Ivan’s face. He never took it upon himself to really look at Ivan and indulge in the way that his hooked nose dipped or the slight curvature of his thin lips. His eyes were much more intense than Alfred recalled, but that could’ve been because he was indulged in the film. His hair was almost-overgrown and shaggy, but didn’t look messy or unkempt. 

“I can see you looking at me,” Ivan said without looking away from the screen. 

Alfred’s cheeks burned as he turned his head away, “Sorry.” 

“Do not apologize. I am flattered!”

He didn’t mean for his gaze to come off in a flirtatious way. He felt Ivan’s eyes on him. He looked back at him, their noses brushing. Ivan’s hand rested on the crook of his neck. Their faces drew closer until their lips just barely brushed together and even though Alfred had been inside of Ivan just two weeks prior, kissing him was daunting. 

Alfred pulled away again, shaking his head no. 

“What’s wrong?” Ivan’s voice was tender and quiet. 

“Nothing. I just-”

Ivan ran his hand down Alfred’s arm, holding his fingers with his own, lowering his head and raising his brows as Alfred stammered. 

“I dunno. It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

“It is okay,” Ivan smiled, his eyes squinting. He fell silent for a moment, still fidgeting with Alfred’s digits. 

Alfred wished that he could just decide how he felt about Ivan, but sorting out his emotions was more difficult than he had anticipated. He wanted to hate him because, God, it’d just make things so much easier and he wouldn’t have to explain to his friends, who had sworn themselves as strictly anti-Ivan, that he was now with the bastard they all despised. He couldn’t do that- they’d be so annoyed with him. 

Still, the way his stomach turned in knots and the way his heart fluttered when their gazes caught, there was no denying that Alfred had some sort of feelings for the Russian. 

“You are okay, zaichik?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not uncomfortable?”

“No,” Alfred shook his head, “I’m alright.”

“Okay.” 

Alfred leaned his head on Ivan’s shoulder again, focusing half of his attention to the movie. 

Altogether, Alfred enjoyed the bond that he and Ivan shared, but to hope for it to blossom into a legitimate relationship was unrealistic, especially since he already knew how Ivan treated Kiku. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Yo Ivan!”

Ivan stopped in his tracks upon hearing his name, turning on his heels to face the familiar voice. Alfred jogged up to catch up to him, smiling as he slowed his pace and matched Ivan’s strides while the two started walking together. 

“Hi Alfred,” Ivan greeted warmly, patting the shorter man’s shoulder.

“What’re you up to tonight?” Alfred looked up at Ivan expectantly. 

“Tonight? Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Okay! Cool, uh, would you maybe wanna go into town with me tonight? We can get dinner and, like, hang out and stuff.”

“That sounds like fun,” Ivan nodded, “like a date?”   
“Oh- no, no, not a date. Just hanging out,” Alfred said hurriedly.

Ivan furrowed his brows. It was not often that he went to get dinner with someone like Alfred  _ just as friends _ . “Okay. What time?”

“Meet at the bus stop at five?”

“Sounds good!” Ivan glanced at his wristwatch. Three fifteen _. Short notice.  _

__ He was just leaving his last lecture of the week and he never usually ran into Alfred on the way back, nor had he ever seen him on this route to begin with. They lived in the same dorm building but on different floors with very different schedules except for their shared class, so they seldom saw each other outside of meetings in each other's dorms. It was odd that Alfred just  _ happened _ to show up today, but Ivan didn’t think too much into it. Even if he went out of his way to find Ivan, he made his intentions in doing so clear so there was no reason for Ivan to drive himself up a wall trying to figure out why or how Alfred figured out his route. Besides, they were friends; that shouldn’t matter. 

Ivan stepped into his room, kicking his shoes off. Yao was at a lecture and wouldn’t be back for a few hours, maybe more if he decided to hang out with his friends after. Ivan was glad; Yao was obviously up-to-date on what was going on with Alfred and was very invested in the story. He asked a lot of questions and had a tendency to pry and Ivan did not want the time that he could be spending cleaning himself up being taken up to explain to Yao exactly what happened and then discuss why and how Alfred knew that Ivan would be en route back to his dorm at that exact time. 

Ivan didn’t talk about himself much; he preferred not to. He didn’t think that how he felt and the way that he went about making decisions should be anybody’s business but his own. This clashed with Yao’s immense nosiness. Ivan was convinced that Yao was more interested in he and Alfred’s relationship than Ivan himself was. He saw them as just friends. Yao was convinced that they couldn’t possibly be _ just friends _ after they had had sex and spent the majority of their time together huddled closely. Ivan didn’t care. He enjoyed Alfred’s company and the sex meant nothing; they were both drunk out of their minds and Ivan couldn’t remember any of it, and he doubted that Alfred could either. 

Before Yao brought it up, Ivan never even considered being in a legitimate relationship with Alfred. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to love, but Ivan wasn’t certain that Alfred was the one. Besides Alfred hating him a month ago, both men were still hung up over Kiku. Neither of them explicitly said his name, but he was discussed when he needed to be under the alibi of “him.” For example, Alfred would be obviously upset and asked why he would reply with just a shrug of his shoulders and a brief, “Him.” 

Ivan seldom thought about him and Kiku’s relationship itself but instead spent his energy stressing over what he said about Ivan that would cause Alfred to hate him so much. Though Alfred didn’t  _ despise _ Ivan anymore, there was some obvious distrust leftover from the disdain. If Ivan moved too quickly Alfred’s eyes would widen and his shoulders would tense, if Ivan spoke too loudly Alfred would cower and grimace, and if Ivan attempted to get him to open up, Alfred would change the subject or ignore him altogether. 

Ivan tried not to let all of that bother him, but it hurt to see someone afraid of him like that. He would never intentionally hurt Alfred; they were friends; he cared about him deeply. 

He sat down at his desk, shuffling absentmindedly through his papers as he thought about what he was going to wear to go out. 

-

Ivan stood at the bus stop rocking on the balls of his feet while he waited for Alfred to show up. It was typical of the man to be late but Ivan’s nerves still managed to get the best of him. He squinted while he looked down the street, his heart jumping at every movement. Typically, he was never nervous to go out, but hanging out with Alfred alone off-campus was entirely different. Ivan shook his hands out, jittering his shoulders as he gazed in the general direction of the sunset. The sun hung just above the horizon and coated everything with a warm golden glow. It was comforting and although the air outside was cool with the early-autumn chill, the golden radiance gave the illusion that it was still a hazy summer afternoon…

“You’re early!” Alfred’s voice echoed from down the street.

Ivan turned, glancing at his wristwatch, “I guess I am,” he was only 5 minutes early.

“You look nice,” the shorter man smiled, tugging on the fabric of Ivan’s sweater. 

Ivan’s cheeks burned as he adjusted himself, now hyper-aware of his appearance, “You do too.” 

“No, really!” Alfred marveled, “That shade of purple looks fantastic on you.”

“You are flattering me!” Ivan smiled. 

“It’s just the truth, man.” 

Ivan shifted again, glancing at his wristwatch. Alfred stood close by, his upper arm brushing against Ivan’s when he moved. The silence between them was brief but tense. They were both aware of their closeness but neither man shifted away. In fact, it was if they gravitated even closer in the few seconds where they didn’t speak. Their arms didn’t just brush but were now pressed against one another. Ivan swallowed the lump in his throat.

“What do you have planned?” He asked.

“Well, I figured that we’d grab a bite to eat and then- I dunno-” Alfred gestured wildly with his hands, “maybe see if someone could get us a couple of beers? You’re not 21 yet, right?”

“Twenty,” Ivan shrugged, “that sounds like a good plan.” 

The pair waited in silence until the bus came. They sat close to each other and didn’t speak, but Alfred offered an earbud to share with Ivan. He took it without much thought and mindlessly listened to the classic rock that bumped through the speakers. Throughout his time in America, Ivan had heard these songs dozens of times; he could not understand how Alfred was not tired of this music after living in America for his entire life. Nonetheless, Ivan allowed himself to enjoy the music that Alfred offered to share. 

Little communication occurred over dinner. They chatted briefly about classes and brought up their families just a little. Ivan discovered that Alfred had a brother named Matthew and a relatively stable home life. Ivan did not share much other than the fact that he had a couple of sisters. Despite him not sharing more than the bare minimum, Alfred still seemed thrilled to learn more about Ivan.

They paid and left, their arms still close as they walked down the street, a bitter breeze ruffling their hair. As they turned a corner, their fingers brushed and for a fleeting moment, Ivan contemplated intertwining his fingers with Alfred’s- just to see how he’d react. He didn’t though; he couldn’t. It wasn’t like he was necessarily romantically interested in Alfred, but if the other man got the idea that Ivan was trying to flirt their friendship could be soiled before it could even truly begin. 

The streets were brightly illuminated by neon signs in shop windows and golden streetlights and they bustled with people, mainly groups of teenagers who stood on the corners laughing and passing around electronic cigarettes. Ivan never understood the appeal of the electric cigarettes; adolescents in Russia just smoked real tobacco if they were going to smoke. 

“I could really go for a coffee,” Alfred said through a yawn.

“You’re tired?” Ivan slowed his pace, looking to Alfred.

“A little. Do you want to grab a cup?”   
Ivan wasn’t a big coffee drinker, “Sure.”   
“Cool. There’s a Starbucks on the corner I think,” Alfred craned his neck to see around the signs and awnings. 

The air in the cafe was just as cool as the air outside; odd for a coffee shop, but it gave Ivan an excuse to remain close by Alfred’s side. They ordered together and Alfred beamed when Ivan offered to pay for his order. They split the bill at dinner after some debate over Ivan also paying for that, Alfred claiming that it was unusual for friends to pay for each other when they eat in a group of two and saying that he didn’t want their waiter to get the “wrong idea”. Ivan didn’t care. He felt he owed it to Alfred. 

“That wasn’t even true-- what he said about you,” Alfred said stiffly as they walked out of the cafe. 

“Huh?”

“Kiku.”

Ivan was taken aback by the mention.

“He said some pretty awful things,” Alfred muttered, his words trailing off. 

“What did he say?” Ivan’s heart sank in his chest. 

“His story was that you guys were together, he cut it off, and you were awful to him after that.”

Ivan’s brows furrowed. Sure, he cut things short, and maybe it was on Ivan for getting so attached so quickly, but he couldn’t recall being  _ awful _ to him. He slowed and eventually stopped, leaning his shoulder against the brick of a nearby building, “Well, we did hook up, that is true, but I never tried to hurt him. And he did end things and I was upset so after he cut me off I would try to make contact with him again,” he explained quietly, “but I do not think I was cruel.”

Alfred turned to Ivan, his face sullen. They stood close to each other, avoiding each other's gazes. 

“What did he say?”

“About you?”   
Ivan nodded.

“He said that you’d threaten him and basically told me that you manipulated him and-” his voice trailed off, “that type of thing.”

“Is that why you hate me?” Ivan asked quietly, “Because of what he said?” 

“I don’t hate you, Ivan.”   
“You did,” the taller man said, “because of what Kiku said?”

“Well- ah- yeah. That is why I didn’t like you,” Alfred stammered, “but I like you just fine now.” 

Ivan nodded slowly, letting his gaze drift into the distance. He already knew damn well that was why Alfred hated him. He never meant to hurt Kiku, God, he loved Kiku with every fiber of his being. Maybe he did say some things that were out of line, but it wasn’t ill-intentioned… Kiku never argued back though, and maybe that was why he was so hurt by what Ivan said… 

His eyes settled on the empty bench ahead of him and he drummed his fingers on the coffee cup on his hand. He wagged his head and let out a staggered breath. Alfred leaned his head on his shoulder, bringing his free arm around Ivan’s waist. 

“It’s over with, Ivan. I don’t hate you anymore. I don’t know why I ever did,” he murmured. 

Ivan’s heart jumped into his throat and his stomach curled into knots. He wanted to be even closer to Alfred. He leaned his cheek against his head and allowed himself to relax against the shorter man. 

“Do you want to go back? We can hang out at my dorm,” Alfred said, pulling away from Ivan.

Ivan took a sip of his coffee. He really was not in the mood to be out anymore- Alfred must’ve picked up on that- and he wouldn't mind having the opportunity to be even closer to Alfred. He nodded.

-

“I’m sorry I brought him up,” Alfred said as they stepped into his room. His roommate was out for the night, leaving the duo alone to spend some more time together. 

“That’s alright,” Ivan shrugged, sitting down on the battered sofa in the middle of the room, “you meant no harm.”

“Yeah,” Alfred sat next to Ivan, leaning his head against his shoulder once again, “you’re not upset with me?”   
“No.” 

“Okay. Good,” the shorter man lifted his head up. Ivan’s eyes held steady on the floor in front of him; he could not rid his mind from the guilt of hurting Kiku. He was over him at this point, especially knowing that he attempted to ruin Ivan’s reputation (and briefly succeeded), but the idea that Ivan hurt someone he loved so badly that he deemed it necessary to ward other people away from Ivan gnawed at him.

Alfred’s hand found itself on Ivan’s cheek, gently guiding the taller man’s head so that it faced him. Ivan leaned into his touch, closing his eyes to wallow in the feeling of Alfred’s hand resting gently on his face. 

As he opened his eyes, Alfred’s head moved nearer to his. His eyes darted from Ivan’s lips back up to his eyes, and in a breathy whisper he asked, “Can I?”

Ivan nodded, closing his eyes once again. His lips met Alfred’s in a gentle kiss, one that said “I’m sorry” and “I care”. It was brief and left Ivan longing for more. He knew he shouldn’t try again though. Still, a smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he brushed the hair from Alfred’s forehead, wanting so desperately to lean in and kiss him again, but knowing he shouldn’t. He knew that whatever was going on between him and Alfred wouldn’t last; Kiku would want him back and Alfred would go. Ivan couldn’t even blame him. 

He let Alfred pull himself into his lap and rest his nose in the crook of his neck, where he planted a single feather-light kiss. He entwined his fingers in Alfred’s hair, absentmindedly twirling his locks through his fingers. Ivan knew that the only reason Alfred was so close to him was because he missed the comfort of having someone else around and wanted the physical affection, but he didn’t object. He enjoyed Alfred’s company and he liked the way his body felt pressed against his own, and the way his fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto his skin, and he liked listening to his slow, quiet breaths. 

And because of how much he loved Alfred’s company as it was now, Ivan couldn’t bring himself to kiss him again- even though every bone in his body yearned for it.

“You’re okay, Ivan?”

“I am very well, zaichik,” he had no idea what Alfred was referring to. 


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks rolled by and as the temperature fell, Ivan and Alfred found themselves spending more time together. After classes they’d visit each other's dorms and began to acquaint themselves with each others’ roommates-- even Alfred’s friends had grown accustomed to Ivan’s presence in their best friend’s life. 

During their time together, much of it was spent playing video games during which Alfred would shout and yell while Ivan won against him by pressing random buttons. After Alfred swore him out, tossing his hands in the air in defeat and throwing himself back into the sofa, they’d laugh until their ribs were sore and when Alfred leaned his face into Ivan’s neck, the Russian man’s heart would jump into his throat and his head would feel light. He would sometimes lean his head onto Alfred’s and bask in their closeness for the split second before they parted. Still, they didn’t care to grow closer emotionally. Neither talked about themselves very much and their friendship was almost entirely built on the basis of cheerful banter and jocular arguments over TV shows and movies.

Friday nights were the most fun. Both of them had stopped attending parties entirely (which disappointed Yao, as that was “their thing” and now Ivan had ruined it to hang out with “some guy”) and instead spent their nights together. Ivan enjoyed Alfred’s company; he carried the majority of their conversations and also didn’t mind Ivan’s untalkative nature. Ivan’s favorite quirk of Alfred’s is that he was not shy when it came to kissing his friends. Admittedly, Ivan hadn’t ever seen him kiss Mathias or Gilbert; but almost every time he saw Alfred he was guaranteed a kiss while celebrating his victory over the Russian man. 

“Ha!” Alfred shouted, thrusting his fists into the air, “I annihilated you, man! Did you even try?” He laughed, leaning over so his nose almost brushed Ivan’s.

Ivan laughed, shoving Alfred away by his shoulders. Alfred wagged his head, launching himself forward and painfully knocking his forehead against Ivan’s. The pair laughed the pain off and wordlessly sunk into a kiss. Ivan’s hands found their way to Alfred’s hips and he moved to straddle Ivan’s lap without hesitation, running his fingers through his hair as Ivan leaned back into the couch. 

Typically their kisses were brief and more pecks than anything but this time, Alfred’s kisses were desperate and he pulled at his hair as if trying to draw him in even closer. His lips trailed down Ivan’s chin and to his neck, working at the hem of his shirt with his hands. Thoughtlessly Ivan pulled off his shirt, Alfred mirroring the action. He revisited the same spot on his neck, nipping at the skin and earning a low hum from Ivan. He pulled away and Ivan held his face in his hands, studying his lips, which were already swollen and reddened. Alfred exhaled through his nose and leaned forward to resume their kiss. Ivan held him back, looking at him with widened eyes.

“You want to?”

“God, please, Ivan,” Alfred breathed, leaning his face into Ivan’s hand, “I need this. I don’t even remember what it was like at that party.” 

Ivan didn’t move. He knew better than this; Alfred didn’t want  _ him _ . He just wanted someone to fuck without consequence; Ivan offered Alfred nothing other than casual company and if he were to lose Ivan, Alfred wouldn’t be losing much. But, God, he would love to share that closeness with Alfred. The thought of Alfred clinging to him while their bodies moved in sync crossed his mind far too many times for him just to turn the dirty blond down.

Their kisses resumed with more intensity than before, both men huffing out of their noses while they worked their pants off without parting their mouths. Alfred didn’t waste any time jacking Ivan off, his hand working nimbly at his member while Ivan hummed in affirmation through their kiss. 

“You’re sure you’re cool with this?” Alfred asked.

“Yes.” Ivan didn’t think before answering this time.

Alfred stood up, stumbling over Ivan’s leg on his way to his bedside table. “My friends made fun of me for buyin’ lube at the beginning of the semester,” he giggled, “who’s laughing now?”

Ivan chuckled, shifting on the sofa as Alfred made his hasty return.

“Here,” Alfred handed him the bottle as he got back on top of him, “you know what you’re doing?”

Ivan nodded hesitantly. He had no idea what he was doing but he had watched enough porn to have a vague idea. He squirted some lube onto his hands and first stroked it onto himself, then squirted more into his hands to reach around Alfred and slip a single finger in at first. Alfred gasped, tensing, then leaned his head on Ivan’s shoulder, peppering kisses on his neck as Ivan graduated to two, then three. 

“Okay?” Ivan asked quietly, his fingers still inside of the smaller man.

“Y-yeah,” Alfred rocked his hips with the movement of Ivan’s hand, “you can-”   
Ivan’s hand moved to Alfred’s hips and in a blur of a moment, he was inside of him once again. A breathy moan fell from Alfred’s lips as he lowered himself. 

Their affair was brief, as both men came within minutes, grasping at each other's skin and moaning into one another's’ shoulders while they rode out their highs. Alfred nearly tossed himself off of Ivan and he laid sprawled out on the sofa, his chest heaving and his lips upturned in a blissful smirk. Ivan leaned down and rested his head on Alfred’s chest. The smaller boy’s fingers worked at his platinum locks. As Ivan zeroed in on the sound of Alfred’s rapid heartbeat, he closed his eyes. He never would’ve thought that the man who he was sworn to hate would be holding him in post-coital bliss, and he never would’ve thought that he’d take such care as to count his heartbeats as they slowed to a normal pace, and he absolutely never would’ve thought that it’d cross his mind to tell his man that he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i disappeared for an entire month. i didn't forget about this fic i'm just really bad at maintaining a consistent updating schedule <3


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